Italy's Eyes
by Midnight Alexis Thorn
Summary: Germany had a burning question about Italy for a very, very long time now. (Add that to the ever growing list and label it Question 562, okay?) Why were Italy's eyes always hidden? And...were they sexy or cute? Were they brown or green or what? (Erm, label the last one Question 565. Wait, you ran out of paper? Dammit!) The first time, this came out as a giant block of text...Odd


Italy's Eyes

Narrator Introduction:

There were a lot of things about Italy that confused many people. For instance; Why was he always so happy? Why was he always so cowardly? Why was he always so fudging adorable? (Oh, come on, you know he is.) Why was he always so nice to everyone, even if no one else liked them and they were scary? Oh, there were many assumptions as to why all these things were, and all of them were false.

"Italy is deceiving us and is secretly planning to kill us all so he can be the ultimate nation, but in reality, he is the one who will either perish or become one with me..." Was the most far fetched idea of all. Russia, seriously, where do you come up with this crap? "General Winter tells me so, but don't tell him I told you, da?" Okay, that works for me. Bye, Russia! "Goodbye, pretty author lady!" Aww, he's so cute and sweet (even if he can be creepy.)

Anyway, two more questions that were festering under the skin (ew, gross, could you really not word it differently?) of many nations were; Why was he always, always, always keeping his eyes closed and what did they look like? "Perhaps his eyes are horribly disgusting and hideous and bleed like vampires eyes do sometimes, so he hides them." Where the fuck did you come from, England? Seriously, you guys need to stay the hell out of my fanfic when you're not needed. "Humph, goodbye then, berk!" Tch, whatever. Wait...did he just call me a bitch in British terms? What a fucking wanker England is! Although, I do love his eyebrows. They're sexy as hell. They are way, way better than Rock Lee and Gai-sensei's eyebrows. I shudder at the mere thought.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah, what did his eyes look like and why did he hide them, right? Yeah, I'm right (as always.) Let's look it up. Okay, so, blah, blah, blah, stupid untrue explanation on the internet. Even stupider-oh, wow, that's what you're going with? Jeez, some people are such idiots. "Like England, am I right?" Shut up, fat ass America! But don't become anorexic or something just because I called you fat! Lots of people would cr- "Jeez, can someone say bipolar? Hahahaha- Hey, you just threw a book at my beautiful face! Not cool, man, not cool." Yeah, that's right, walk away, dickhead, walk away.

Okay, so since the internet doesn't help at all and sucks complete ass right now, let's ask someone Italy knows, loves, and trusts using Germany.

End of Narrator Introduction and on to the real story with limited cursing, unlike this crappy intro:

Germany had a burning question about Italy for a very, very long time now. (Add that to the ever growing list and label it Question 562, okay?) Why were Italy's eyes always hidden? And...were they sexy or cute? Were they brown or green or what? (Erm, label the last one Question 565. Wait, you ran out of paper? Dammit!)

Of course, Germany just couldn't up and ask Italy to show him his eyes or ask what they looked like. That would seem like he was desperate to see them, which he wasn't! So, what could he do? Aha! He could go and ask Italy's family members and close ones!

...

"Romano, I understand that you do not like me, but-Hey, don't throw things at me! As I was saying, could you please-Stop throwing tomatoes, dammit! Would you please just tell me-Oh, forget it, you arschloch!"

...

Okay, so asking Romano didn't quite work out. So, what? He wouldn't let that deter him! Who else might know? Aha, what about Italy's other brother?

...

"Hello, Seborga, I have a question about your big brother-" "Which one?" "Italy, not Romano-" "Well, technically, they're both Italy" "...Fine, I meant Veneziano." "What's the question then, big guy?" "If you would wait for me to continue, I wanted to know if- Hey, where do you think you're going, you brat?!" "To go flirt with some gu-girls, I have to wait a century or two until Sealan- I mean, Wy, grows up to be able to date hi-her. See you." "But I need to-and he's gone...How are Italians so fast when they retreat?...And why are all the ones I know always gay?"

...

Ugh, he hated kids. Dogs are so much better. "Blackie, get off of the couch!" ...They were still better than kids, even when they didn't listen. What about Italy's old caretaker?

...

"Austria, I have a critical question to ask yo-" Germany started, only for him to be cut off by the person he was talking to. "Raus! Get out! I have to practice for a concerto that Elizaveta will be attending! Shoo, and while you're at it, make me some more coffee." "But-" "Nein! No buts! I'm busy!"

...

Alright, that didn't work that well. So what, though? Who cares if he didn't get the answer from Austria? And who cares if he did get the stupid, freeloading aristocrat coffee? Erm, you didn't here the last part of his mini rant. But that failed experience gave him an idea, he could ask Hungary! After all, didn't she consider Italy her little brother and Italy considered her his big sister? So, surely, she would know, right?

...

"Hallo, Hungary, I am sorry to bother you, but I have an important question to ask." Germany apologized to the seemingly sweet and innocent nation before him. (He'd never been on the receiving end of her pan.) "It is no problem, really. What is the important question you have to ask me?" She smiled sweetly towards him, causing him to fidget slightly. (Prussia had told him that she was a she-beast, but, obviously, he had lied. "I wanted to know if you have ever seen Italy's eyes or know what color they are." Germany informed her as she blinked, as if realizing something. "No, I haven't seen them, nor do I know what they look like. It never really crossed my mind, to be honest.

"At the very beginning, I wondered about why he always kept his eyes closed, even as a young child, but I never really pried or asked about it. Sorry, but I believe that France knows; the lecherous bastard." Hungary cursed darkly, a shadow setting over her eyes, giving her a demented look. (Ah, so perhaps Prussia was only exaggerating some.)

"Thank you, I suppose I will go on my way to France's house now. Thank you for the help." Germany nodded politely, but somewhat awkwardly to the odd yet beautiful nation. "Oh, it's no problem, really. Be careful around that pervert France, he might slip something into your drink, so don't accept anything from him!" She exclaimed cheerfully with a wave. "But if he does, come and tell me so I can hit him with my pan!" Hungary gave that demented grin and waved around a pan threateningly.

"A-ah, I'll be sure to tell you if he, um, does. Goodbye, now." He gave another awkward nod towards her as he went on his way to France's house.

...

"Honhonhon, and what brings you here to my home, Germany? Have you come for a bit of...fun?" France smirked as he leaned against the doorframe slightly. "Don't try any of that perverted crap with me, you incompetent Frenchie!" Germany snapped as France pouted. "Well, if you aren't here for a little fun, then what do you want...Nazi." France smirked even larger as Germany fumed as he snarled slightly.

Oh, sure, their countries and people themselves might be on good terms, what with the Élysée Treaty, but the personifications themselves were not. In fact, they were actually kind of pissy with each other and most would say they hated each other. (It was mostly because Germany was "somewhat" pissed because of all the times the Frenchman had tried to molest Italy. And the Frenchman because he was upset, much like Romano, that the German was taking their 'mignonne petite Italie' away from them, but you didn't hear that from me. Seriously, you didn't hear that from me, I don't want to be molested in my sleep or something...even if France is supercalifragilistically hot.)

"Look, I really don't feel like participating in your petty arguments today, I just want to ask you a question about Italy." Germany sighed, feeling much, much older than he was. Running around all day to a bunch of countries was kind of tiring. "Oh, what would you like to ask me about mon petite Italie?" France cocked his head to the side slightly, eyes flashing in an odd emotion when he said the French part of his sentence.

"I wanted to know if you know what Italy's eyes look like or if you've ever seen them." Germany stated as politely as he could at the moment. France's smile dropped off his face immediately and he looked...worn out? Sad? Something along those lines. "Oui, I saw his eyes once, a long, long time ago before I was about to tell him...it does not matter what I was going to tell him, but yes, I have seen his eyes." France gave a sad smile and Germany frowned slightly. What was it that France told Italy? (A/N: Go read my story 'A Broken Heart And An Equally Guilty Soul' if you're curious.)

"I see, and what do they look like?" Germany asked. He could almost taste the great taste of sweet, sweet victory. He finally found someone who knew! "I said I knew, but that doesn't mean I am about to tell you. Only three people have ever seen his eyes, I am the third and the other two are dead. It is a gift to be shown his eyes, and I am not about to just tell you. You will have to ask Italy and see for yourself. However, he will only show you if he truly loves and trusts you, so don't expect to see them." France sneered somewhat angrily before he went back into his house and shut the door with a slam.

"...That was...odd. Why did he react in such a nasty way?" Germany frowned to himself before shrugging. Who knew? It was France, after all. (A/N: I repeat, go read my story 'A Broken Heart And An Equally Guilty Soul' if you're curious! It will all reveal itself there, I promise.)

...

Well, obviously, Germany couldn't just ask Italy. It was preposterous and it would never work! Why would Italy just show him if he always kept his eyes hidden? And even though he knew that Italy trusts him fully, he doubts that the Italian really loves him. (Dammit!) Unless, the Frenchman also meant the friendship-type love? Maybe- no, that would not work. Who else could he ask?

Well, let's think of who else Italy is friends with and was around as a chi- Wait, dammit! France said he was the only living person left that had seen Italy's eyes! Dammit, dammit, dammit! Fu-(Hey, keep the cursing level down!) Sorry, authoress. (You better be, damn prick!) ...Hypocrite...(What was that?!) Nothing. (That's what I thought. Humph! "Geez, like I said, PM-" SHUT UP, JACKASS!)

Anyway, now Germany had no choice but to ask Ita- Wait once again, oh wonderful readers o' mine! France said that he had seen Italy's eyes a long, long time ago. Perhaps, that means that at the time he was the third person, but in reality, now there could be another person who knows! Ah, sometimes Germany is so smart and clever that he scares himself. (Yeah, he was scary, but just for another reason.)

Back to friends and people Italy was close to as a child. Okay, well, there was possibly Spain, Poland, and-Holy crap! His older brother, Prussia, was around Italy when he was younger, wasn't he?! Yes! Sometimes, the ultimate genius came in a muscly, handsome form.

"East! Where are you?" He questioned loudly, knowing that his brother was definitely home at the moment. "Being totally awesome and destroying people and Stone Guardians! Kesesese!" Prussia cackled. (Which basically translated to he was in the basement (his room at the moment) playing World of Warcraft. What? Don't judge, the five months of my life I spent playing WoW on my brother's account before he decided he hated me again were the best five online game playing months of my life.)

He ran down the stairs quickly and opened the door to his brother's "room" (he should really clear out one of the guest rooms that were filled to the rim with storage.) "What do you want from the awesome me, West?" Prussia asked his little brother, though he did not take his eyes off from where he was obliterating the Stone Guardians.

"Have you ever seen Italy's eyes?" Germany asked, not in the least bit breathless from running to the basement from the other side of the house. (Dammit, is it bad that I get "slightly" breathless from running up my thirteen stairs?) Prussia faltered for a moment, resulting in the Stone Guardian landing a harsh hit.

"...Why do you ask?" Prussia questioned after he paused the game, turning around in his spinny chair, also resisting the urge to say "I've been expecting you." (That would be so much fun, wouldn't it?) "I was just curious as to why he never opens his eyes and was wondering what they look like." Germany answered simply, watching warily how Prussia reacted.

"Meh, I've never seen them, even when he was younger and I was around him when Grandpa and the Roman Empire were best friends or something and I went over with him sometimes. Heh, I taught Italy how to pick basic locks." Prussia smirked, causing Germany to frown. "Why don't you just ask him, West?" Prussia raised an eyebrow curiously. Germany opened his mouth to reply before Prussia began cackling madly. Germany's eye twitched. He was not a fan of Prussia's laugh. At all. (Humph, most people love his laugh, like the awesome me. His laugh is awesome, like he and I.)

"Kesesesese! Is West too shy to ask cute little Ita himself? Kesesesese." Prussia cackled, finding the situation unbearably funny. "East..." Germany growled in warning. He was promptly ignored by the awesome Prussian. "This is just too rich!" Prussia laughed loudly as he jumped off the chair and began running up the stairs. "East, where the hell are you going?!" Germany shouted after him as he ran up the stairs after his brother.

"The Awesome Me has to call and tell someone! Wait, not just someone; cute little Ita!" Prussia cackled as he whipped out his cell phone. "NEIN! Don't you dare do it! East, put that phone down now!" Germany roared angrily as he kept chasing the Prussian, slowly gaining speed and ultimately distance on his brother.

"I'm typing in the numbers! I'm- Oh, shit, what were the last two digits again? I always mess them up...unawesome numbers!" He huffed, not realizing that Germany was almost right behind him. "Oh, yeah! I remember, no-" he was cut off as he was tackled to the ground and the phone flew out of his hands. "Ha! Got you!" Germany smirked triumphantly. "Hey! Get off, you big load of muscle! You're crushing mein awesome body!" Prussia growled irritably as he struggled to get out from under his "little" brother.

"Why should I? You were about to call Italy! Italy, of all people! Italy does NOT need to know, okay?!" Germany glared down harshly at his brother, not realizing that he was making an immediate mistake. "Why the hell not, you wuss?!" Prussia glowered at him as he tried to escape from his brother and reach the phone. "Because!" Germany snarled angrily. "Because why?!" Prussia growled back. "Because I said so, dammit!" Germany snapped the same thing that Prussia had snapped at him many times before when they were younger. (Prussia used to hate when his grandfather told him that, yet still told Germany that as a child. Because he could. And because he was awesome.)

"What the hell, dammit?! Only I can say that because I'm the older sibling!" Prussia snarled as he fought to get the upper hand. "No, you can't!" "Yes, I can!" "No!" "Yes!" "No!" "Yes-!" "Ve~Why are you guys fighting? Please don't fight." Italy's voice whimpered as they both stiffened and looked over slowly. There was Italy. "Oh-" Prussia began, "Scheiße." Germany finished. Italy cocked his head slightly and looked even more confused and upset, but, then again, Germany wouldn't know because he COULDN'T SEE ITALY'S FUCKING EYES!

..."What can't I know?" Italy frowned, looking almost hurt. "Uh," Prussia said, "would you look at the time?" Prussia looked down at his nonexistent watch. "I have an Canadian's vital regions to invade. Bye, bye, cute little Feli!" Prussia waved cheerfully before running off. "...Germany...?" Italy whimpered. "Uh...Uh...Um...Hi?" Germany was unsure and hesitant in asking.

"What can't I know?" Italy frowned as- OH, HOLY SHIT, WERE THOSE TEARS?! OH, NO! What was he supposed to do?! "Um, it's really not important. Please don't cry." Germany frowned as even fatter tears began growing at the corner of Italy's eyes. "B-But, why can't I know?" Italy sniffled. "It-It's just-I just-No, no, no, no. Don't cry. Don't cry." Germany panicked internally, but sounded a little put out externally. "Please tell me," Italy whimpered as he began rubbing his eyes. "I...I just-um... I.. really,really,reallywantedtoknowwhatyoureyeslookedlike,butyoudon'thavetotellmeorshowme,becauseit'stotallyfineifyoudon't. (I really, really, really wanted to know what your eyes looked like, but you don't have to tell me or show me, because it's totally fine if you don't.)" Germany said in one breath.

Italy cocked his head slightly in confusion. "That's it? You just wanted to know what my eyes looked like?" Italy sounded a bit shocked. "Yes, so I went around and asked a lot of countries, but only France knew, but that bastard wouldn't tell me, so I had to ask Prussia if he knew, because I know that when you were younger you hung out with him a bit, because of Opa and all, but then Prussia wanted to-" Italy's mouth twitched in amusement before he giggled lightly, eyes opening fully.

"Mein. Gott." Germany muttered under his breath, staring wide-eyed at the honey golden eyes that sparkled in amusement and with hazel flecks. Italy grinned at the response he got and began giggling even more, but didn't close his FUCKING BEAUTIFUL EYES! "Uh-Um-Your eyes...they're..." Beautiful. Stunning. Fucking amazing. Awesome, even. Germany just wordlessly closed his eyes and put a hand over Italy's own eyes.

"V-ve~?"

"Um...So, uh, how's...the...weather been?"


End file.
